


Of Monsters and Men

by silentsoundy



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Mild Gore, Minor Character Death, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-17 06:29:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10588323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentsoundy/pseuds/silentsoundy
Summary: What the Reaper experiences with every Wraith-treatment.





	

**Author's Note:**

> [a drabble without going into greater detail of what my interpretation of Reaper goes through every time he requires injections to renew the source of what he is in order to survive. I might elaborate further details of this HC should enough interest be shown. Nasty, nasty business]

_The flight uneventful, the perused data revealing nothing inconclusive save for inane chatter hardly worth raising any concern over, the Wraith lands in Columbia, docking at Talon's HQ. Greeted with barely a sliver of pomp and circumstance, if the usual security debriefing could be labeled as such, he's soon on his way to meet his favourite Medic in the sub-level Medical; where all the nice monsters tend to congregate for all sorts of playdates and socials. He'll be given the usual third degree, reminded of debt and cost, duty and responsibility, and in turn he'll dish out the usual sarcastic and cynical commentary with a shrug, a flick of a few claws, and thinly veiled threat of death and dismemberment in no particular order. A laugh and a snicker and the Reaper assumes the usual position: stripped down to the skivvies and strapped to a chair._

_Oh this is interesting. There's a team of Frankensteins approaching now. This should be fun._

"We'll be introducing a new strain of virus to counter the self-aware alpha nanites infecting you." 

Can't be any worse than that last batch of shit you shot me up with. 

"Gag him." 

_And so it'll go, less of what many assume is Reyes: the man, and more Reaper: the monster emerges from that viscous pool of shifting flesh and pus, pustules and rot the moment muzzle and bit come into view. Restrained and straining against steel and woven carbonfiber, the Wraith does what the Wraith does best, and with tongue and fangs, sloshed and slurred threats of evisceration and consumption of souls, the titanium bit's jammed to lock his jaw, and fastened to restrain his head to the chair's headrest. Status quo, just another day at Chez Talon._  

_There's little left of lucidity and reason that's got him yammering and fighting every step of the way. His veins are punctured, like acid his treatment flows through every fiber of his being, melting away the dysfunctional, refreshing with the sting of nerves laid bare the renewed. He never screams. He'll yell and curse and laugh and laugh and laugh, but he never screams._

_He refuses to give them the SATISFACTION._  

_It'll be a day and a bit before what's left of what's hardly considered human is capable of forming a coherent sentence. Another twelve hours before they'll unstrap him, and only after he convinces them that he'll play nice, yes he's alright now, he's fine, yes he sees three fingers and can read those flashcards perfectly._

_Another six hours spent in The Tank._

_And this time he's not alone in that giant fucking fishbowl of a Sendep chamber._

...who are you?

"Failed Experiement 014. I know who you are."

...why are you here?

"Take a guess."

...how old are you? You sound like a fucking kid.

"They told me I'm fourteen. I dunno. Don't remember."

...name?

"Failed Exper-"

...real name.

"-iment 014."

...got a nice ring to it.

"...will it hurt?"

...yeah. Or so I've been told. Never been on the receiving end.

"Better than what they did to me I guess."

...probably. It's nothing personal kid.

"Yeah, I know. At least I got real food as a last meal."

...you smell like purple Jell-o.

"All I wanted, really."

...you ready?

"I guess. I mean, I don't have a choice right?"

...smart kid. Close your eyes.

"Can't see shit in here anyways. Don't even know how we're talking to each other."

...it helps. Or so I've been told.

"I was supposed to be like you."

...I know.

"Can I ask for one more thing?"

...yeah, sure, why not? Can't do much for you like this though.

"...can you give me a name?"

...you sound like a Julia.

"I like that."

...

"..."

...goodnight, Julia.

"Goodbye, Reaper."

_Her soul tastes like grape Jell-o_

 


End file.
